In his collaboration with South Korean director Bong Joon-ho, Jung Jae-il has become the composer who best captures the critical issues of our contemporary society. Following his soundtracks for Okja, Parasite, and Squid Game, his work on Mickey 17, starring Robert Pattinson and now in cinema, further cements this status.

How can music become the perfect vehicle to represent the inconsistencies of contemporary society and its dystopias? Art, in its many facets, has always sought to narrate the evolution of society, showing – metaphorically or otherwise – the infinite possibilities we may encounter. Violence, control, isolation, alienation, and economic inequality are just some of the consequences of capitalism’s progress and the cyclical nature of our time. Now more than ever, they have become a fundamental part of contemporary artistic storytelling.  

In Stanley Kubrick’s cinematic narration, classical compositions invaded the surrounding space, deliberately dismantling the highbrow beauty of such symphonies, in stark contrast with the exacerbated violence of the sequence being shown. Similarly, contemporary cinema increasingly seeks such synaesthesia; and who today could better represent this fusion than Korean director Bong Joon-ho and his compatriot composer Jung Jae-il?  

Bong Joon-ho’s cinema has always been a depiction of social inequalities and contemporary dystopia, where every individual is in pursuit of personal wealth – arguably the ultimate form of control in our century. His protagonists are often anti-heroic figures trapped within the superstructures of class and power, which shape and frequently distort their lives. “Many of my characters are confused,” he told The New York Times. “They find themselves in a situation and don’t know what’s happening. It’s sad and comical at the same time.”  

Drawing from the social landscape of South Korea – perfectly exemplified in Parasite – Bong Joon-ho has masterfully extracted these themes, both foreseeing their consequences and transposing them into the contemporary realities of societies worldwide.  

Alongside Bong Joon-ho’s directorial evolution, composer Jung Jae-il, with whom he began collaborating from Okja onwards, has developed a distinct musical identity informed by his Central European compositional training. Over time, he has honed a sound that encapsulates the invisible tensions of power – a minimalist, circular, obsessive music that conveys the sensation of an individual trapped within systems as perfect as they are ruthless.  

Listening to his compositions for Parasite or Squid Game conjures melodies as delicate as the harshness conveyed by the irreverent and violent imagery. The social struggle for individual independence becomes a brutal race, where Jung Jae-il’s dreamy and sweet melodies perfectly depict the indifference of the privileged classes. It is a contest without winners, a rhythmic chase with no real outcome. The lowest remain trapped, enclosed in a concentric sonic cage.  

The affinity between Bong Joon-ho and Jung Jae-il appears almost elective, as their cinematic and musical narratives seamlessly merge. The result is the quintessential representation of what contemporary cinema should be – an element vividly present in their latest work, Mickey 17.  

Based on Edward Ashton’s novel, Mickey 17 is set in an ostensibly dystopian future where part of humanity has left Earth to colonise new planets in an attempt to forge new possibilities for life in space. Aboard the spacecraft heading towards the planet Niflheim, led by politician and Trumpian archetype Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo), is also Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson), searching for a fresh start while fleeing a loan shark bent on revenge.  

Unlike the other expedition members, Barnes readily accepts his role as a ‘disposable,’ becoming the perfect test subject for the medical team to assess the planet’s perils. What does this entail? Mickey must endure every imaginable hardship the new planet presents, dying repeatedly and being reprinted indefinitely until his purpose is fulfilled.  

In the social metaphor that Bong Joon-ho constructs through the lens of sci-fi, he arrives at the realisation that we ourselves embody a society of replicants, lost in our daily tasks. In this framework, music’s role in shaping the sci-fi imaginary is the perfect representation of our world’s dystopia.  

Jung Jae-il’s compositional elegance encapsulates the decadence and cultural collapse of our society. His central theme for Mickey 17, “Bon Appétit,” mirrors the protagonist’s therapeutic cycle, further intensifying the contrast between the beauty of a world in decline and the promise of new discoveries, where man becomes the ultimate test subject.  

The measured cadence of his symphony evokes Johann Strauss II’s “The Blue Danube”, not only referencing Kubrick’s masterful use of the piece in 2001: A Space Odyssey but also instilling a false sense of reassurance in the viewer: an antidote against the cultural shock that Mickey 17’s ending may induce. This interplay of references and aesthetic paradoxes extends to the inclusion of “Terra Lontana”, a famous piece by Nino Rota from Luchino Visconti’s Rocco and His Brothers (1960), reinforcing the notion of a universal, timeless melancholy that transports the echo of a vanishing civilisation into the depths of space.  

From minimalist piano compositions to grand orchestral arrangements, Jung Jae-il demonstrates how classical music can serve as the ultimate synthesis of both power and control – exercised, in this case, by the politician Kenneth Marshall, eager to impose a civilisation model rooted in conservative and religious ideals. A sect devoted to the idealisation of the individual over sociality, where melodies grow increasingly concentric, trapping the listener in a hypnotic loop that reflects the doctrine of the individual above the collective.  

Thus, every sonic element becomes the embodiment of a regime’s music, designed to control those who will establish a new civilisation. As Marshall’s crew records every event on the expedition, they ultimately create a propaganda documentary to elevate their messianic leader in the eyes of a home planet that had previously scorned and rejected him. Here too, music dictates the rhythm of this dual elegance and horror.  
With Mickey 17, the shared vision of Bong Joon-ho and Jung Jae-il journeys through space in a metaphorical conquest of a new earthly identity. Yet, at its core, control remains paramount: over the body, identity, and even the very possibility of existing beyond the productive cycle. Jung Jae-il has become the composer who, more than anyone else, translates the present into sounds that hypnotise, wear down, and implode; a silent narrator of the dystopia we inhabit. 

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Photo Credit: Courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures